


Dusk Vigil

by Sphinxriddle



Series: Fragments of Voss [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Gen, Not Beta Read, When ur friend has an echo vision of your traumatic past :tm:, spider warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 15:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphinxriddle/pseuds/Sphinxriddle
Summary: Wynne's Echo grants her insight into a friends past, perhaps too much insight.
Series: Fragments of Voss [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1513865
Kudos: 7





	Dusk Vigil

The vacuum after a triumphant battle was always a fascinating, beautiful thing. Sometimes it was loud, echoing, cries of joy other times it was somber reflection on the events that had come to pass. This time, in the cold windy ruins of Dusk Vigil, it was a bit of both, and neither. Wynne watched with deep interest as it unfolded around her, forever the scholar observing her surroundings for knowledge hidden in the lives of her most dear friends.

Most were cheering, checking out the loot they’d managed to salvage from this brutal grave of a fort, and deciding how to go about returning what they came here to find. Some were simply cleaning their weapons and armor of all the grime and snow that had accumulated there during their trek. Even more still were tending to their remaining wounds, her Faerie aiding those she could. 

Then there was the outlier.

Danica stood near the body of the beast they had slew to reclaim the gem silently. Blood dripped from her fingers to icy floor, pooling at her feet. She gazed, almost mournfully, at the griffons corpse. It’s brilliant feathers marred with its own blood. It’s beak open in one last defiant screech. The Ala Mhigan slowly knelt near its head, and as she reached out for it, Wynne’s head began to pound.

The tell tale sign of a horrific, privacy invading, vision on the horizon. At least, that’s what Danica would say about them. The Au ri woman raised her hand to her brow, leaning over in the throws of the echos pain. Her Faerie, a kind beautiful creature, zipped over from where they had been patching up a few scratches on Alphinaud’s chin to her side. Reaching out with healing light, attempting to help but far too late to stop the inevitable. 

The world took a sepia tone as it shifted from the wide amphitheater ruin to a much smaller more claustrophobic cave. Dark. Far too dark to see if this was a normal situation. The indistinct smell of gore, and distant burning, assailed her nose and made her wretch. Neither the darkness nor the smell was what drew her attention however. What captured her mind was the distant, almost small, sobbing she heard further in the cave. 

The world, and vision, shuddered. The crying grew louder, and louder, until Wynne was standing right now to a small child, huddled near a griffons prone form. At first, she thought the beast sleeping, for in the shade of the world around her, the gore on the floor, and covering the young girls hands, looked almost like mud or dirt. The crying child’s words however, shook that thought from her mind.

“Wake up” A cry. “Please wake up Ingvild.” A plea “I’m scared Ingvild. I’m scared and it’s so dark.” The child pushed at the griffons head. Poked and prodded and pulled its feathers weakly. Repeating her helpless plea into empty air again and again. Though the sadness echoed in Wynnes chest, it did allow her to examine the child. 

Wild black hair. Two different colored eyes, though telling what color was difficult. She was gaunt, sickly looking, like she hadn’t eaten. She wore a pink dress, simple in design with a faded pattern of butterflies on it, a jacket far far too big for her, and no shoes. Most damning of all however was the slightest hint of a point to her ears. If the vision would allow her, she would have gasped. The scene before her, a mirror to one that played out in the present day. Danica Voss. A Dead Griffon. 

“Momma told me to go some place safe! You protect people Ingvild! Why won’t you wake up! I’m scared! what if the bad man who hurt Momma comes after me!” Voss was no older than six, maybe seven here. This looked nothing like Thanlan. The historical puzzle pieces fell together like a trail of dominoes once the first was pushed. 

The Fall of Ala Mhigo. This was the fall of Ala Mhigo, through the eyes of one terrified half elezen girl. 

“I’m scared.” she repeated again, the look on her face one of total heartbreak and understanding. “I’m scared and I’m alone.” she buried her head in the feathers, ceased her words, and simply sobbed. 

Yet the vision did not end there. Wynne did not snap back to reality to see her friends again. No. Danica kept crying. And Crying. Growing louder, and louder until something heard her. The Au ri woman heard skittering in the dark. Saw strange, eight legged shapes in the shadow. Circling the girl and the fallen beast.

Danica heard them too. Her head snapping in the direction of the sound. Her bloody hands grasping harder upon the birds feathers, tearing some free in her fear. She looked around, panicked, eyes catching on the giant shape of Gyr Abanias spider in the shade. 

She hurried under the dead griffons wing. Huddling close to its cold body. Holding her legs close to her chest with her terrified eyes wide and watching. Tears still falling, but silent now. 

The Spiders continued to skitter. Their huge forms stalking the shadows to some other sound for their dinner. Yet still, Danica dared not make a sound. Her bloody hands stained her pink skirt crimson. Her tears drenched her coat sleeve and muffled her sobs.

She shivered. She shook. She was afraid. She was alone.

“Hey!” A voice snapped both Wynne from her vision, and Danica from her memory. Estinien Wyrmblood, Voss’s fellow Dragoon, stood at the entrance to the arena. His arms crossed over his chest, he tapped his foot with tangible impatience. “We’ve ground to cover, now if you’re all done looting the place let’s go.” 

Danica, the adult Danica, the older, mischievous warrior and friend stood from where she had been kneeling. She turned to face the party with her normal smile, brilliant, sparkling and nodded to Estinien. Her hands were still drenched in blood. White feathers peaked between her fingers. Her grin grew as she walked past Wynne, and Estinien. 

“Right you are! Plus, I think we all may need to take a pit stop and clean ourselves up in a stream or something. I’m right drenched in viscera. Bound to catch a cold.” 

Estinien scowled. Danica laughed, the sound seemed...less somehow. Less what? Wynne wasn’t sure.

Wynne watched her, words hanging on her tongue as they all began to file out. Forever walking forward on their grand quest. She almost sounded like someone else there. Like she was hiding, like she was underneath another wing. Danica said naught much else the rest of the evening. Nor did wynne. 

Not for lack of trying, it just seemed too much time had passed to bring things up. To comfort a friend on a long weeping wound to her soul. It would be awkward now. Wrong. Ripping open a band aid on a wound that still very much needed it.

So she didn’t. Instead she watched her friend intently later by the campfire. Gazing into the embers. Absently fiddling with a singular white feather. Silent as the grave.


End file.
